


Touch

by eveshka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10004051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveshka/pseuds/eveshka
Summary: Ignis isn't a tactile sort. He has Reasons.





	

Before Altissia, Ignis eschewed touch. He preferred sight, clarity and color. What he could see, he could affect. But now... this... clouded world of occluded darkness interspersed with faded light... Ignis found the only true stability was in touch. He hated it with every fiber of his being. Touch was weak. Sight was strong, proof. Touch could be misleading.

 

_Noctis had used that to his advantage when they were younger for a horror show put on for classmates. Lucky Ignis had to do touch tests. What felt most like a brain, Ignis? This stuff or this stuff? Boiled spaghetti noodles and cauliflower. Ignis was only two years older, how was he supposed to know what a brain felt like?_

Ignis knew now. A brain felt surprisingly sturdy, heavy with a solid creamy spongy heft.

_Ignis! Tell me what this feels like? Does it feel like eyeballs? Peeled grapes in one… and… eggs. Shaped into balls and wet with egg-sweat. Ignis couldn’t know what either was supposed to feel like other than what it was. Food was just… food!_

Eyes felt more like slightly soft cherry tomatoes that had been left too long in water, nearly swelled to fit overripe skins and not yet split.

_Ignis, which feels more like intestines? This one, or this one? Come on, don’t be a spoilsport. Tell me! Uncooked tube sausage and squid tentacles, stripped of their suckers. Both felt equally hideous, and Ignis had nothing to offer by way of reply._

Now he knew. The sausages were absolutely spot on.

_Hey, Ignis… what does this feel like to you? Bones? There was nothing in the box. Frowning, Ignis felt around within and jumped violently when Noctis’ other hand grasped his within the box. The younger boy collapsed in laughter and waggled his gloved hand at Ignis once freed from the box._

Bones depended on age and dampness, Ignis knew that now.

And now, Ignis’ world is reduced to touch, to sound and scent. But mostly touch.

 

The nights where the world was too big and dark for Noctis, Ignis had dutifully set aside his distaste and accepted his role as pillow, protector, and sometimes security blanket. Only Noctis was allowed what, to Ignis came as a shock to realize, that intimacy. Ignis couldn’t afford that intimacy with anyone else. Not when touch could lie.

But, over the years, Ignis had been fistbumped, shoulder punched, hip checked, and generally manhandled within an inch of his existence. Between Prompto and Gladio, the aversion to touch hadn’t stood a chance. The understanding of touch as intimacy faded to a degree, and he began to accept the everyday touch.

But no-one crossed the line of intimacy. Not until after Altissia.

After Altissia, Prompto hadn’t stopped touching him. Little touches here and there, sometimes to direct, sometimes just to reassure. Often times it was just a hand up when he lost his footing.

And Noctis had stopped.

After Altissia, Ignis hated touch. It reminded him of what he’d lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Another one-shot for Demishock's prompt: [...]got the impression that Ignis is the least tactile of the quartet and it's such a dudebro thing to do [...]  
> I may have taken it a few steps farther...  
> \---
> 
> I am currently taking prompts at my Tumblr! Find me there!


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